


Percy Jackson is an Idiot

by tvconnoisseur



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvconnoisseur/pseuds/tvconnoisseur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annabeth looks like she’s going to hit me again and this time she does. Super!Fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Percy Jackson is an Idiot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arianrhod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arianrhod/gifts).



I am an idiot.

Let me be clear:  there are a LOT of reasons I could be considered an idiot.  Being a half-blood tends you make you rush into things without weighing pros and cons more than pro:  killing monsters = good and con:  it may hurt.  Plus, my dyslexia and ADHD have never exactly helped me be the sharpest pencil in the desk.  But I guess the main reason I know that I’m an idiot?  Annabeth Chase told me so.

“You’re an idiot,” Annabeth chides.  “Gods, you’re such a stupid idiot.”  She looks like she’s going to hit me, but thinks better of it.  Instead, she continues to gesture wildly, the nectar in the flask she’s holding sloshing out the top.  “I can’t take you anywhere!  Here I’m thinking that it would be nice to have a night out in the city for once and not worry about armor or swords or monsters, but you can’t seem to manage that, can you?”

If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was unbelievably angry, but her gray eyes are dark, like an oncoming storm about to rain.  Without waiting for me to speak, she pours nectar into my mouth.  “Drink, don’t dribble,” she orders.

I swallow the best I can without gagging.  When I finish, I open my mouth and stick out my tongue.  “Look, ma, no hands.”

She looks like she’s going to hit me again, and this time she does: a solid whack across my shoulder.  “Ow!  What was that for?” I cry out, clutching my arm.

“Why are you such an idiot?” she asks, the storm behind her eyes about to break.  “I told you I had it taken care of.  You didn’t need to rush in and save me.”

I prop myself up a little higher against the wall (trying not to wince too much so Annabeth doesn’t realize how much pain I’m actually in, even with nectar doing its best to heal me) and I meet her eyes.  “Of course I did,” I say.  “Not because you didn’t have him, because you did, but because I _needed to_.  If you’re in danger, I need to rush in and be an idiot.  I’m pretty sure there’s a clause in our boyfriend-girlfriend agreement that allows me moments of complete idiocy when it comes to you.”

Annabeth sniffs, her lower lip trembling.  “If there is, you really abuse that clause, because you’re an idiot more times than you’re not.”

She offers me more nectar—less violently this time—and I sip it down.  The taste of liquid chocolate chip cookies warms me up, the pain in my chest subsiding, but I still don’t feel strong enough to get up.  Not that that has ever stopped me from trying.  I push myself up, but my breath suddenly becomes tight against my chest and I fall back down.

“Don’t rush,” Annabeth says.  She leans against the wall next to me, our shoulders barely grazing.  “Once more, you’ve beaten the Minotaur.  You deserve a break.”

Shaking my head, I correct her.  “ _We_ beat the Minotaur.  Cornering him into an alley and using the fire escape as a vantage point to attack?  Genius.”  Annabeth blushes slightly.  “Plus, who else would remember to pack nectar in her purse ‘just in case Percy ends up being Percy?’”

“You always do, without fail,” Annabeth says.

I take her hand in mine and I feel that familiar tingle all over that lets me know that no matter what beasts Tartarus may throw at us, I will never let this hand go.  “I’m sorry we missed the exhibit.”

Annabeth shrugs.  “It’s just an exhibit.”

“It’s not just an exhibit,” I insist.  After all, if I learned anything from Annabeth’s constant stream of _ever-so-casually_ bringing it up at least once a day for the past three months, it’s that this exhibit was not just an exhibit.  “It’s the most comprehensive collection of tools and writings on the Egyptian pyramids, one that sheds light on how a great empire’s even greater monuments rose from the desert sands to inspire the world.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes.  “You’re impossible,” she groans, but she squeezes my hand tightly for a second, like a secret smile pressed into my palm.

“Still.  I’m sorry I screwed everything up again.”  I look at her earnestly.  Annabeth dressed up for our night out on the town—only Annabeth would think going to special after-hours museum exhibit opening qualified as a “night out on the town”—and even though she’s covered in grime and smears of blood, she’s still unbelievably stunning.  Her long blonde hair is braided into a plait down her back and she’s wearing a silver dress that makes her eyes sparkle.  “You look beautiful.”

“You mean before the Minotaur threw me into the dumpster?” Annabeth laughs, self-consciously smoothing her skirt.

“I mean now, before, and always,” I say and I mean it.  I imagine Annabeth so old that her hair is the same color as her eyes and still I’m awestruck.

Annabeth looks like she’s going to cry again, but she doesn’t.  “Percy, I—”  She hesitates.  “I—I think you’re an idiot, Seaweed Brain.”

I might be totally and utterly brain-damaged (being thrown half a block into a wall by a mythological beast might do that to you), but I’m pretty sure I heard the word _love_ behind all her idiot name-calling.

“I think you’re a little bit of an idiot, too, Wise Girl,” I say and she grins.

“Obviously, if I’m choosing to date you.”  She rests her head onto my shoulder.  “Are you feeling better?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I tell her.  “But do you mind staying here for a little bit longer?”

She shakes her head and buries herself deeper into me.  “Not as long as we’re together,” she says.

I kiss the top of her head and smile.  I may be a complete idiot, but I’m a complete idiot who got the girl of his dreams.


End file.
